


Frei im freien Fall

by sacredcatrising



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: Angst, Gen, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 14:43:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13572738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sacredcatrising/pseuds/sacredcatrising
Summary: "No.No.It’s not possible that they didn’t come.The Flower Girl wouldn’t have lied to me.No.No.- Kaddie? -My heart stops. I probably die for few seconds. Then it starts again, I start breathing again, my blood is flowing again."





	Frei im freien Fall

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Frei im freien Fall](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/355335) by ChiiCat92. 



**_Frei im freien Fall_ **

 

_It’s Mother’s voice. I can hear it, it calls for me._

_She needs me._

_She repeats my name again and again, slowly, clearly. She pronounces it letter by letter as if I couldn’t understand her._

_But I do understand her._

_I would, how I would run to her._

_My body shakes in the agonizing need of reaching for her, it stretches, it writhes, I can feel my shoulders dislocating, my back breaking, my knees giving in under the tension._

_I can hear myself screaming, I recognize my voice, and I feel the pain in my throat as it scratches and the taste of blood on my tongue._

_If I could I would tear my arms apart with my own teeth just to free myself and go to her. If I could._

When I open my eyes it’s difficult to tell apart the nightmare from the reality.

I’m still screaming, I’m still kicking, I’m still trying to tear apart my arms just to being able to sit.

I’m still hurting.

How much time passes by before the door of my room opens, filling it with light, I couldn’t tell. What I know is that my wrists are bleeding, my ankles are purple with bruises. And I can’t even feel the pain of the injection the nurse is giving me in my neck, I’m too busy trying to bite her hand.

\- Hold him down! - 

I don’t even know who this voice belongs to, I don’t care. Before they restrain my head too, I’m able to sink my teeth into the woman’s hand. She’s not the only one to be surprised that I did it. I didn’t even know I was strong enough to do it, but still.

I grit my teeth, I hold tight, more than I can and when she tries to pull back, screaming in pain, a shock wave, starting from my teeth, runs through my whole spine. Every jerk hurts my entire dental arch, I can almost feel my incisors creaking.

Just a small, aware corner of my mind warns me that if I happened to tear a tooth off not only it won’t grow back, but it will be like ad horrible broken window in my smile.

But there’s another part of my mind that hurries to remind me that, after all, I have no more reason to smile.

I can feel the second shot because it comes all of a sudden, on my thigh, like a stab, painful enough to leave me breathless for a moment, and I end up opening my mouth just enough to let the nurse free from my grasp.

She holds her hand to her chest, looking at me as if I was a dangerous animal, a reptile she got too close to, a crocodile, a snake, something slimy and cruel with sharp teeth.

I want her to see me that way, that’s why I smile.

Oh, maybe I still have reasons to smile.

I’m sure I can taste in my mouth not just my blood - some because of my throat scratched from my screams, some because of my teeth undergoing all that stress- but even hers.

Seeing her skin becoming pale is almost too satisfying.

Then it comes the daze. It spreads like a poison, starting from the entering point on my leg, so slowly and sweetly that it’s difficult to fight not to let myself go. It’s a cotton fog, soft, so cozy and warm. It reminds me of Mother’s embrace.

But no, I don’t want the unconsciousness, I don’t want to see those horrible images, I don’t want to be defenseless when it happens. I don’t wanna go to Him.

I squirm again, and again, but my body’s becoming so heavy, and I’m so tired, I can’t even find a good reason to keep on fighting.

The darkness comes and grabs me, gently at first, cradling me, than grabbing my hair, pulling me back.

I don’t have a voice to scream this time and my eyes close. The room, the injured nurse, the doctors, everything disappears, enveloped in the dark.

Another voice, not gentle and soft as Mother’s one, claims my conscience.

He already has me, I can feel it in the way he’s amused as he pronounce my name, as he claimed my soul too.

I waste my last bit of energy to loosen my muscles and abandon the fight.

Now I’m all His.

 

The light never changes in my room, the time never passes. There’s just me and these four white walls drenched with my screams.

But I’m tired of screaming.

“ _And you don’t want to fight anymore.”_

I know the thought is not mine, and I try to push it away. I imagine to crush it in the back of my mind, to suppress it, to suffocate it until it dies.

_“And you don’t want to fight anymore.”_

It’s difficult to stay alert with all the drugs that they injected me.

I don’t know what exactly.

Painkillers, because my body feels lighter and lighter, full of helium like a balloon, I’m barely aware that I got hands at the end of my arms.

Sedatives, because I constantly slip from slumber to wakefulness, without being really conscious, stuck in a limbo that I can’t escape.  

I can vaguely hear the voices around me, as vaguely as I can see the figures surrounding my bed.

I recognize the white coat and I wish I could pull away from the invasive contact of their hands.

But where could I run, in which corner could I hide?

I’ve got my hands and my feet tied, my head forced in a position that makes me feel sick. I can’t look at anything but the ceiling, everything else looks painfully blurry in the corner of my eyes if I try to force myself to look there.

Any primary need of my body is dulled by the drugs.

I’m just like a doll, and they never grow tired of playing.

They sting my bare feet with a needle, waiting for me to flinch, but I’m so dazed by the sedatives that I react various seconds later, which provokes a frantic muttering in them.

Not a single word reaches my hear clear enough to make me understand it.

I just want to get up, just get up. I’m tired of this bed, I’m tired of not being able to move.

Let me get up.

I want to get up.

I slowly try to squirm away, but I couldn’t move even if I had arms and legs free to do it: I feel so heavy, as if I had a block of concrete on every limb.

I can’t feel anything, not even anger or frustration. There’s just white and hazy nothingness.

But I just want to get up, just get up.

 

I wake up all of a sudden.

Alert.

Aching.

I bite my lips till they bleed.

It hurts.

I take less time than expected to realize that the drugs must have worn off, at least my mind is free.

How long?

I try to move my head but it’s still tied.

Shit. I’m so thirsty.

Stupid doctors.

I jerk my arm with more force than usual, trying to get at least one hand free, but the _crack_ that my wrist makes and the consequent pain makes me change my mind.

They’re tighter than last time.

I ignore my heart pounding like a hammer in my head.

Shit. Shit.

_“You’re panicking.”_

That’s not true. Shut up.

I’m awake, I’m alert. And you don’t exist.

I try to jerk the other arm, the pain and the _crack_ are the same, a whine of frustration escapes my lips.

_“There’s nothing you can do to get free.”_

\- I said, SHUT UP. -

\- Who are you talking to? -

Fuck.

As much as I try to look toward the voice the only thing I get is a big headache. I snort, annoyed, but even more when the doctor enters my range of vision.

“ _Zack_ ” written on the tag on his white coat.

_Zack zack zack zack_

It reminds me of the noise of shears opening and closing.

\- So? -

I blink, maybe I grew apart for a moment.

_“You’re crazy.”_

Shut up, damn it.

\- I wanna get up. -

\- You bit one of the nurses. -

He’s quick at comeback.

But so am I.

\- Boo-ooh. I wanna get up. -

For a moment it’s a staring contest.

I can feel his need of sticking a syringe in my neck and put me to sleep to make me shut up, because it always ends up like this.

And, after all, I can feel _my_ need of jumping on him and killing him with my bare hands. For revenge, frustration. For sheer personal pleasure.

_“See? You’re crazy.”_

\- I’m sorry, you’re a dangerous patient, I can’t release you. -

Remorse?

Sorrow?

Pity?

Whatever it is, it shines for a moment in the boy’s pretty eyes. Puppy’s eyes. He’s barely a grown man.

I change attitude then. I loosen my arms, relax my shoulders. But most of all, I bite hard the interior of my cheek until the tears fill my eyes, while the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth.

I look back at him.

And he flinches.

I know what he sees. Even if a few days has passed since the last time I saw myself in the mirror. I know what he sees.

A young boy, fifteen years old, weak and skinny in that horrible hospital clothes, big green eyes full of tears, silver eyebrows narrowed, hair reduced to an electric silver mess, due to the several attempts to rebel. Hands and feet tied in a bed.

\- I’d like to get up. I have to go to the toilet. -

A voice so soft and trembling, for the screams that have injured my throat, but moreover because I wanted to sound like it.

I see a trembling in the lower lip of Zack _zack zack zack_ , and I know I hit the spot.

He looks around, worried, he moves his body weight from one foot to the other.

Come on, I know you’re a good little soldier.

Then he sighs. And rans a hand through his messy black hair.

\- Just to go to the toilet. - he tells me in a whisper, his blue eyes staring at mine - If you do something bad I’ll make sure they’ll tie you up so tight that you’ll never be able to get free. -

\- Of course, doctor. -

Compliant, be compliant.

First of all, he release the belt that’s keeping my head still and I immediately feel all my neck’s muscles loosen and melting like snow in the sun.

It’s hard keeping myself from punching him in the face when he gets my hand free, and even harder when I got the other one free _too_.

I could do so many things to him.

I just keep playing the part I chose. I rub my wrist, I open and close my hands. I didn’t even realize how numb were the tips of my fingers. The tip of my right middle finger was even getting purple, almost blue.

There must be anger and resentment filing my eyes for a moment while Zack _zack zack zack zack_ release my ankle as well.

But everything fades away the moment I can pull my legs to my chest.

The sensation I feel now that I can move freely is…beyond words. I couldn’t even imagine how frustrated I was before. I get it just now.

I slowly get up, I still have to understand if my legs are gonna bear the struggle after all the time passed in this damn bed.

My knees tremble just a little, but I’m able to stand still, maybe I waver. My stomach reminds me I’m starving. The only things I fed on were the drugs.

\- Just to go to the toilet. -

Restates the young doctor. I restrain myself from sending him a repulsed look.

He places himself in front of the door and I don’t need to wonder why: he’s sure I could try to run, but I’m perfectly aware that I’m too weak to even think about it.

I vaguely nod just to appease him and, one foot at a time I’m at the door of the bathroom. The linoleum under my bare feet is a sheet of ice. Sweet sweet sensation.

\- Five minutes. -

\- Ok boss, got it. -

I hope I haven’t slammed the door too loudly, closing it in that idiot’s face.

I take some seconds before moving, my hands still holding the knob.

_“What are you afraid of?”_

\- Oh shut up. -

I mutter, lost in thought.

It’s worst when they stuff me with drugs.

He never shuts his damn mouth. Never.

I sigh and let the knob go.

The mirror above the sink looks more like a shiny slab of metal. No glass, I could break it and make a weapon with its splinters, hurt myself, or hurt the doctors.

I’m able to do it even without it, so why wasting all those energies?

_“You look really horrible.”_

\- I agree with you for once. -

Under my breath. Zack _zack zack zack zack_ musn’t listen.

I touch my chest, my abdomen, my hips, my pelvis. I must have lost weight because anywhere I touch I can feel my bones pressing against the skin.

I take off my shirt, damp of sweat, and I realize I’m full of bruises. Most of them on my arms, because of all the failed attempts of the doctors of stinging my skin with their needles, but even for all the times they were able to.

I try, I hesitate and try to distance myself from the moment I’ll have to see my face and realize that I really _do_ look horrible.

But my eyes escape my control and I can’t help but staring at my image in the mirror.

Even if I barely recognize it.

I’m used to my pale skin, I don’t dislike this tone, if only there were also such deep and dark bags under my eyes, against this snow white skin. My lips are cracked by the thirst, if I try to touch them lightly I just jump with pain. My hair is a _mess_ and almost automatically I try to tidy them up. Maybe it’s a good thing that my bang is covering half of my face, at least it half hides the living dead effect. How horrible.

_“What are you going to do now?”_

I ignore him, as always, while I go on with the inspection looking for other damage.

I startle when, with the tip of my fingers, I reach the huge, painful bruise on my tight. It must have popped out after they stabbed me with the syringe. They have fun with me as if I was an olive cocktail. Bastards.

The wounds on my wrists, caused by the belts, are still open but clean, someone must have taken care of them while I was asleep.

I immediately turn on the tap and the first thing I do is placing my hands under the jet of water. I cry escapes my lips for the relief. It’s so fresh, comforting, delicious. That’s why, cupping my hands, I start drinking.

It hurts, for different reasons. First of all, my aching throat doesn’t feel better with that freezing water, which makes it hurt even more. Then because, when it reaches the stomach it’s so empty that it almost gives me cramps.

But I’m thirsty. I’m thirsty. I’m thirsty.

I drink until I don’t feel full. It will alleviate my hunger for a while. And it will be a good excuse to make them let me get up again.

Speaking of that. It feels good emptying my bladder, and I bend my head backwards to enjoy this moment like it was precious.

I flinch when a punch hit the door.

\- Have you done? -

The muffled voice of the doctor. What is he thinking, that I’m gonna drown myself in the sink? Or that I’ll try to escape from the toilet? There’s not even a damn window.

Where else could I go?

\- Just a moment. -

I spit between my teeth. All I need now is for him to open the door to make sure I’m still here, despite my reply.

_“Kill him. Kill him and run.”_

I can feel the blood freezing in my veins and I hold my breath. For a moment I just hear the frantic pounding of my heart in my temples.

_“How hard could it be? He doesn’t expect it. He’s behind the door. If you open it with the right force you’re gonna hit him hard enough to stun him, and by that time he’s already dead.”_

\- No. - I’m able to say, even if I don’t know where I found the air to say it, since there’s no more left in my lungs - Shut up. You’re not real. I won’t do anything like that. -

_“So you’re gonna let them tie you to the bed again? Begging for them to release you for a moment of freedom in the bathroom?”_

\- I said no. - it sounds like a hiss from my lips. I hope Zack _zack zack zack zack zack_ didn’t listen. - I can run without killing anybody. -

“But you did bite the nurse. It means you’re ready for anything, that you can do anything.”

\- Not. This. -again, the knocking at the door startles me and yes, this time I really hiss, like a snake with his tale stepped on - I SAID A MOMENT. -

\- Five minutes have passed, come out now. -

_“I know you want to kill him. You thought it before. You’re crazy.”_

\- I’m not crazy. -

I really do believe it while I open the door and send a smile to the doctor who’s been so _kind_ to let me go to the bathroom. I try to squeeze out of me all my gratitude, every last drop.

He looks at me hostile for a moment, then he smiles back.

Maybe I can try and make another little request.

\- I’d like to see my brothers. -

An almost whiny muttering, clearly childish, I can feel my heart clenching as I realize I borrowed it from someone else.

I try to ignore the heart that’s trying to break my sternum by pounding and pounding and pounding, and try to focus on the pretty face of Zack _zack zack zack zack_.

That suddenly becomes serious. Dark. Angry.

\- Go immediately back to bed. -

I don’t know what it is. I don’t know where it comes from. I don’t even know how it has happened.

I only know that from my sore throat comes painfully a scream that escapes my lips. I only know that suddenly the tears that I was pretending to shed are real and burn like acid on my cheeks. I know that when I jump down Zack _zack zack zack zack’_ s throat, trying to strangle him it’s not because He’s told me to do it, inside my mind, but just because _I_ wanted to.

I know that when it comes the umpteenth, burning, painful, horrible stab on my tight I’m not even surprised.

When I collapse on the floor just two words escape my lips. My brothers’ names.

Yazoo.

Loz.

Yazoo.

Loz.

Yazoo.

Loz.

Until I pass out.

 

_\- Kadaj! Yazoo! -_

_Everytime we play hide and seek, Loz get scared._

_He takes only five minutes to start believing that we have disappeared and that he’s lost us forever, while we are just hiding in the bushes, with our knees full of dirt and scratched by brambles, holding each other and laughing with a conspiratorial air._

_In the air, besides the chirrup of the cicadas and Loz’s whining voice, we can hear a sharp zack zack zack zack: the neighbor is cutting the flowerbed._

_Yazoo looks at me, amused, I think he couldn’t be more beautiful with that smile on his face._

_He’s smiling at me, I smile at him. Everything looks perfect._

_Mine are little hands of a child._

_A memory._

_A dream._

_I’m eleven years old._

_And I feel like drinking a peach ice tea._

_It’s really hot._

_Soon staying crouched on the dirt starts to become uncomfortable, but I don’t see impatient on Yazoo’s face, not as much as there must be on my face at least._

_I won’t be the first to complain, but neither will he._

_Suddenly Loz’s nervous footsteps makes us squeeze to each other even more in our little dark corner._

_I move a little the dirt under my shoes to adjust, that smell of wet grass prods my throat._

_\- Kadaj? - I hear Loz rummage in the bushes not so far from where we are - Yazoo? -_

_My heart starts pounding faster, faster, faster. I’m scared he might find us. The waiting is terrible, a never ending agony, I feel like I’m dying._

_Then his little pouty face, his eyes green as gems, comes out of the leaves. He saw me!_

_He smiles._

_\- Found you! -_

_And he starts running towards the tree that we’ve chosen as home base._

_\- Run, run! -_

_Yazoo pushes me, he helps me getting on my feet, and before I could even realize I’m laughing, laughing and running, and I don’t have enough air in my lungs to do both._

_The sun hit strong, there’s relief just under the vague spots of shadows under the crown of the trees._

_Loz has longer legs then mine, he’ll get there first I’ll have to be “it” next turn._

_I can feel a complain starting in my chest. I could stamp the ground, I could get angry. Or I could give my big brother puppy eyes, they always work._

_I see him, before me, sprinting like a corridor towards the finish line. And I also see him stumbling in his own feet, tumbling down for at least two meters…and bursting out crying._

_At that, I’ve almost reached him, the tree is few steps away, I could just touch its log and I wouldn’t have to be “it”._

_But Loz is crying, holding his knee to his chest, heartbroken._

_I can’t do it._

_In the heat of the run I almost stumble too, beside him._

_\- Oh Lozzie! -_

_Worried, I try to make him move his hands to let me see how the wound is. He goes on sobbing, but he let me touch him. He scraped his knee, it’s bleeding, he’s full of dirt and grass._

_A silver flash in the corner of my eye span, it’s Yazoo that runs toward the home base. I barely see him while he lays a hand on the log of the tree and screams:_

_\- Olly olly oxen free! -_

_\- I-It’s not fair! The game was s-suspended! -_

_Loz wheezes between the sobs. I try to calm him down, I dry off his face, I place a kiss on his cheek._

_\- It’s not my fault if you’re slow and stupid and you stumble in your own feet. -_

_Yazoo gloats instead, getting close swinging his arms._

_I look daggers at him, but he doesn’t change expression. So stubborn._

_\- Come Lozzie, let’s go to Mom, she’s gonna disinfect you. -_

_\- But it b-burns. -_

_New tears, I try to dry them off too._

_\- It will pass soon, and you’re brave. Come on. -_

_He convince himself to get up just because I smile to him._

_He limps a little and I try to support him along the path, but he’s thirteen, he’s bigger and larger than me, I will never grow up._

_It’s Yazoo who holds all his weight then._

_\- Come on stupid, it’s not like you’ve lost a leg. Walk. -_

_But he must have hit it hard, Loz is not that exaggerated._

_With Yazoo’s help we’re able to bring him home. The French door of the porch is wide open, the smell of the ice cream that we ate before going out to play is still strong in the kitchen, it must be because no one put away the dirty glasses._

_\- Mom! - I call. Yazoo helps Loz sit on a chair and he checks his knee. He conceal it but I know, oh, I know he’s worried. - Mom where are you? Lozzie has fallen, he hurt himself. - I go upstairs, in her room, maybe she’s resting in bed. But when I open the door she’s not there. - Mom? -raising my voice a little, a slight sparkle of fear starts devouring my stomach. I almost fly downstairs, Loz’s eyes follow me, asking me a question I don’t want to answer._

_Where’s Mother?_

_I open the door of the basement, the washing machine is working, I can hear its engine’s noise._

_\- Mom? Are you here? -_

_I go down the stairs. Unlike Loz I’m not afraid of getting down here, the dark doesn’t scare me, and besides the boxes with Christmas decorations and our old toys there’s nothing here, so why should I be afraid?_

_I stop on the last step, because otherwise I would get my shoes dirty._

_The smell of the laundry soap that Mother uses to wash the clothes doesn’t cover the one strong, metallic, hot and dense of the blood._

_A few steps away, beyond the cone of light of the light bulb that’s hanging on the stairs, I glimpse a body._ Her _body._

_But my attention is focused on the head. Chopped off and rolled from the dark corner to the base of the stairs, her eyes wide open, her lips still open as to say…_

\- Kadaj. -

It feels like start to breathe again after a long, long apnea, or like start to live again after a defibrillator shock.

I’m shivering head to toe, my body is covered in cold sweat. I can feel dry tears around my eyes and on my face, but new ones are dripping along the way created by first.

I dry them off with irritation, with both my hands. That’s when I realize that I’m no longer tied up, and that I’m not even in my room.

I take some time to become alert again, fragments of images force me to curl up like a child.

\- Kadaj. -

That voice again, the same one that woke me from my nightmare.

I dare raising my head, as much as possible: it weights a ton.

The Flower Girl’s face is always beautiful. Sweet, kind, ready to offer a smile even in the most desperate of circumstances.

Like mine. Like now.

She places a hand through my hair, caressing me. I don’t even realize I’ve tried to pull back, not after I’ve already done it.

\- Don’t worry, it’s over now. - she moves her hand away just to show me the wet cloth she’s holding in the other one - Let me take care of you. -

She doesn’t wait for my answer, she just starts wiping my forehead with the cloth. That fresh sensation makes me heave a sigh of relief.

\- What… -

I try, but my throat is so dry that hurts me emit even one more sound. The Flower Girl shakes her head, she has a red bow in her hair, it suits her considering the dazzling whiteness of her nurse robe.

Before answering my implicit question, she offers me some water from a glass that I eagerly gulp down. Yet I had drunk as much as I could just few..

I realize, looking around, that I’m in the infirmary, and from the windows come the warm light of the morning.

\- You had a bad reaction to the medication they give you. - she explains, he voice always gentle. Thing doesn’t sound so terrible if she’s the one who tells them. - You had a really high temperature for two days and two nights, and you never regain conscience…until now. -

Sons of a bitch.

_“It’s a good sign, the fever didn’t burn your brain off.”_

Oh, and you’re there too.

I place a hand over my head. I would like to squeeze away that voice from my mind, eradicate it like weeds and pouring salt on the land to not let it grow again.

\- My brothers. - after drinking the throat feels a little better, my tongue doesn’t stick to the palate and I’m able to talk again - Did they.. did they come to see me? -

For a moment in the Flower Girl’s eyes I glimpse a sparkle of…fear? No, it can’t be. Whatever it was, it’s immediately covered by a wave of compassion and another smile.

She looks so much like Mother. Or maybe the idea I was left of her.

\- Yes honey, but unfortunately we couldn’t let them in since you were so sick. Now that you feel better if you behave you’ll get to go back to the common room and have visitors. -

\- Really?! - even if I have no more strength, even if when I sit my head feels dizzy and I almost pass out again, I’m not able to contain my excitement - Can I? Even if.. -

Guilty.

I tried to kill Zack _zack zack zack zack_ , well, I couldn’t _really_ kill him, but I did assault him.

 

\- Zack said you were already feeling bad because of the medications. - as to say it’s not my fault? But I’m almost certain that he injected the medication _after_ I assaulted him, how could I already feel bad? - So later, after eating something, you can go to the common room. They’ll come again to see you for sure. -

Oh, who cares.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

But I can’t say it. Stupid pride.

Thank you.

I lay down again, a smile on my lips, while she stands and puts a flower in a vase on the night table, like she does with every patient she takes care of, always.

I watch her as she goes, and I can’t help but feeling…happy.

I’ll see my brothers.

_“Innocent once again.”_

\- I didn’t do anything, didn’t you hear? It was the medications’ fault. -

I can believe it, I can _pretend_ to believe it, I can tell everybody that it’s like that if they want me to. So maybe they’ll see I’m not crazy and they’ll let me out of here.

_“Oh but I wasn’t talking about it.”_

\- And so? -

_“How many times are you going to avoid your sentence?”_

Shut up.

 

I can’t stay still.

I can’t even feel the taste of the flavor of the food I’m sticking in my mouth.

I have to regain energies.

My brothers.

Yazoo.

Loz.

I haven’t seen them in months.

Since I’ve been admitted here nothing is like it used to be.

The Shin-ra psychiatric hospital.

They say I’m crazy. They say I hear voices.

 _“You_ do _hear voices.”_

One voice. It’s different.

And didn’t I already told you to shut up?

When I arrived here I was sure that I wouldn’t have to stay long. How long would the doctors take to see that I’m not crazy?

Not so long.

Not so long.

The first week I was sure they would have let me out the next one. And so the first month.

But it was okay. Everything was okay as long as my brothers came to visit me.

We didn’t do anything special, maybe we drank some tea, Loz sneaked sweets in for me. Loz knows I’m greedy.

But then my doctor said it wasn’t _healthy_ that I kept on talking to them. That I had to stop.

They kept on coming and I couldn’t see them.

They were there for me, and I couldn’t tell them how much I missed them, how much I thought about them, how it killed me not being able to hug and hold them.

We’re alone in the world, the three of us.

And so, day after day, I started not taking the medications the doctor gave me to make the voice go quite anymore.

“My” voice never stops talking, and when I’m unconscious it assault my mind.

Trying to let them understand is useless.

Opposing in useless.

I ended up tied to my own bed. They called me “dangerous patient”, and why. Just because I wish to see my brothers?

Everything’s gone. Everything’s over.

I don’t care anymore. Now that I’m walking down the corridor, now that I’m pretending that my legs don’t hurt, that I don’t feel like I’m gonna pass out at every step, that I don’t feel the bruises scraping against the fabric of my clothes and hurting.

Now nothing matters except Yazoo and Loz.

The common room is for those patient who are more or less able to understand and take action, as long as patients in a psychiatric hospital may be able to, I guess.

It’s hilarious that I’m here, around crazy people, as I’m completely sound.

_“You’re not, Kadaj, why are you fooling yourself?”_

I glance the clock on the wall. The visiting time must have just started.

I sit on a sofa big enough for three people and I wait.

I wait for the ones and only true reasons to live to enter that door.

The first ten minutes are so draining, even if the room fills up with joyous chats of relatives and friends who’ve come to visit the patients.

This place is still an asylum, it only takes to change its name and people stop being afraid of it.

Twenty minutes. It’s unusual for them to be late. I start to tense up, I feel my throat getting all choked up.

Half an hour.

“ _They’re not coming, Kadaj, they’re not coming.”_

\- Shut up. -

I mutter to myself, putting a hand through my hair.

They’re coming, they must come.

They’re coming.

They’re coming.

Please.

Please.

Forty-five minutes.

\- Visiting time ends in ten minutes, please, the patients’ relatives may go towards the exit. -

No.

No.

It’s not possible that they didn’t come.

The Flower Girl wouldn’t have lied to me.

No.

No.

\- Kaddie? -

My heart stops. I probably die for few seconds. Then it starts again, I start breathing again, my blood is flowing again.

Through the tears that fill my eyes I see Loz running to me, arms wide open.

Before I could even hug him, it’s him that hugs me.

His hug has always been so warm and cozy, it’s able to calm my anxieties and my fears. His smell is only his, his essence, something that tastes like long nights without nightmares, vanilla sweets, and tears. I inhale it with both my nose and mouth sinking my face in his shoulder.

\- You’re late. -

I hope they don’t hear me crying, it would be really shameful. Even if I’m sure they wouldn’t care about it.

\- Tell that your brother, it looks like that idiot still has to learn how to tell the time from a watch. -

Yazoo.

I distance myself from Loz just enough to look at him. That half smile, those shiny green eyes, that tilting of his head that makes him look like a rattlesnake ready to bite.

I reach out my hand and he joins the hug. His smell is different, tough and sharp, it tastes like metal, gun powder, like a gun that has just shot, and spices.

I feel like laughing.

\- I’ve missed you so much. -

I mutter, holding them. I can feel my body healing himself, feeding on their love.

\- We missed you too, Kaddie. - Loz  is crying, I see that because his chest is shaking in little sobs - We did everything we could to come to visit, but every time they told us that you couldn’t, that you were sick or something. -

\- I’ve really been sick. - I don’t even know why I comfort them. I should be so _angry_ at them, I should scream, I should make them bring me back home. I should blame them for not doing anything to let me out of here. But I can’t. They’re here, they came for me. - But now I’m good, and now that you two are here I feel even better. -

For a long endless moment we keep hugging. Only when I’m sure I’m not crying anymore and that I’m able to stand still on my own legs I distance myself from them.

I get to the sofa almost trotting and I sit, touching the two sits next to me, to let them do the same.

They immediately obey.

It’s fun seeing how they react to my orders, how they bow their head to every tantrum of mine. It has always been like that, it doesn’t matter how little I am and how big they are.

With my right hand I grab Yazoo’s one, with my left Loz’s. I intertwine my fingers with theirs, I sigh with relief and I smile. I’m glad I still have all of my teeth.

Despite that uncertain and awkward silence I don’t feel uncomfortable. Even if I can’t ignore how they both try to escape my gaze, how they pretend to turn their head to look around if I try to meet their eyes.

\- What’s wrong with you? - I laugh a little, nervously, I try to bury my irritation under a nonchalance I don’t have - Are you afraid of your crazy little brother? -

\- Of course we’re not. -

Yazoo burst out, a grimace for a moment twists his face.

So it’s for that.

\- You do know I’m not crazy, right? -

I mutter. Instead of releasing their hands, I hold tighter, I make them focus on me all their attention.

\- Yes, we know, Kaddie. -

Loz whimpers, but he doesn’t look in my eyes, it looks like he’s looking _through_ me.

I know what he wants to say, what he avoided saying with that sentence.

Yes, we know, Kaddie.

But by now it’s almost one year that you’re confined in a psychiatric hospital.

We have some doubts about your mental health.

\- Good. - my voice is more sharp and painful than expected, but I still act like nothing’s wrong - Then when can I come back home? Did you talk to the doctor? -

They look at each other, and for the first time I feel left out. They built something deep between them, something I’m not part of, something that distanced them from me and that made them out of reach for ever.

Yazoo smiles at me. I recognize that compliant smile that everyone, everyone in here addresses me.

You need to talk compliantly with a crazy person.

\- Yes, we talked to him. He says you’re still not ready to get out, that you’ve been aggressive…that they had to tie you to the bed, that you’ve assaulted a nurse, a doctor…-

-They were _drugging_ me. - I try to make him see how absurd is for him to side with them - The medications they give me are not helping me to “heal”, they make me feel bad! I’ve been two days in a coma because of the medications they gave me. You would have been _aggressive_ too if they tried to stab you with a ten centimeters needle every time that you refuse to obey their absurd requests. I _don’t_ submit. -

Only when I glimpse a doctor looking at me in the distance, I realize I’m raising too much my voice, and that I must have exaggerated my tones and my manners. It’s fear that tighten my stomach in a grip, so painful that I can feel the food I ate before trying to climb up my esophagus again.

But most of all, it’s the view of my borthers eyes, wide open and scared, that painfully hits my heart.

Too bad that I never know when to stop.

\- Kadaj. - Loz places a hand on my shoulder. I hate it when he uses my name, I _hate_ it. Because if he doesn’t call me “Kaddie” or with some other stupid nickname, it means he really is worried. - We don’t want you here on purpose, it’s for your own good. You need to understand what’s wrong and heal. -

\- THERE’S NOTHING WRONG WITH ME. -

I shake his hand off and I get up.

_“Uh-uh Kadaj, your scene is attracting a nice audience.”_

It’s impossible not noticing the men in white coat gathering at the edges of my personal stage, ready to jump on me if I ever happened to do something.

A part of me is screaming, telling me to stop, apologize, sit back.

But it’s such a tiny part.

-You know we love you. -

Yazoo tries, compliant again.

It sends the blood to my head.

\- STOP talking to me like I was CRAZY, STOP IT. -

I realize I got close to him, screaming at his face like he was a stranger and not Yazoo. My Yazoo.

Stop it Kadaj, stop, you’re gonna destroy yourself, they’re never gonna let you have visits again, they’re never even gonna let you out of your room. Stop it!

“I have to say it, you do look crazy.”

\- SHUT UP! -

I hold my head beneath my hands, grabbing my hair. I want him out of my mind, I want him to stop talking.

I don’t wanna hear him anymore. I don’t wanna stay here anymore.

I scream, at the top of my lungs. A scream of pain.

Two of them come to take me, each for one arm.

I never know when the battle is bigger than me, I never know when to stop and lay down my arms. That’s why I kick, punch, I try to scratch them. I hear a sound similar to a bone breaking when my elbow hits one of their faces.

This time it’s not an injection that knock me out.

It starts from the base of my back and it burns. It’s like liquid fire that runs through my spine assaulting my nervous system. My muscles tense in a moment before being shaken by spasm I can’t control.

The electric shock of the teaser gives me five second of horrible lucidity before makes me pass out in the nurse’s arms.

One.

Loz’s cheeks are tear-streaked.

Two.

Yazoo’s eyes are wide open.

Three.

Loz is scared of me.

Four.

Also is Yazoo.

Five.

I am crazy.

 

*

 

\- Begin, please. Tell me about yourself. –

 _Click_.

The recorder starts, it’s on the psychiatric’s desk, next to the photo of his family. A futile attempt of making this place look cozy.

\- My name is Kadaj. – and I feel so stupid – I’m fifteen years old. – I hope my voice doesn’t sound as pathetic as I hear it – One year ago I’ve been admitted to Shinra Psychiatric Hospital. – every session the same story, same words. Only the amount of time I’ve been in here changes. It’s always more and more. – I’ve been told that is because of a psychotic breakdown caused by a post-traumatic stress disorder. – I don’t even know what those words mean.

\- Do you remember what caused it? –

I gaze at the doctor, slowly. I don’t even have the strength to keep my head up.

They must have drugged me more than usual, because from time to time the world around me flickers and threatens to disappear.

Behind the sit figure of the doctor I can see _His_ , and I have to blink so hard that my eyes almost hurt.

But I deserve this after what happened in the common room.

I can’t forgive myself for having assaulted my brothers.

\- Because of our Mother. –

I whisper.

There’s blood on the floor, and smell of soap in the air. I force myself to close my eyes and I breathe deeper for a moment.

I hear my ears  ringing and I’d like to just curl up in a corner and let myself slip in the void. But I know I wouldn’t be in peace even there.

I know it because _He_ ’s there waiting for me.

\- What happened to your Mother? –

I can feel the pain but it’s so far, so muffled, I shouldn’t even understand that it belongs to me. But I couldn’t not recognize a pain lite that.

\- She’s been murdered. –

I say it so softly, I don’t want the recorder to catch these words. Otherwise they become real.

\- What did they do to her? –

_“Isn’t cruel the way he insist for you to tell him the worst part of your life? What a monstrous creature, why don’t you kill him?”_

I see Him.

It’s just a moment, but his figure materializes more intense and clear behind the back of the doctor.

Dressed in black leather, long silver hair that almost fluctuate in the air, perfect features in that white marble that composes his face, two green gems at the place of his eyes. And a black wing on his right shoulder, the petroleum feathers that rustle like silk. They look so soft.

With a gloved hand he touches lightly the doctor’s face, he doesn’t even notice it. He bends over to be at his level, because he’s so tall that I feel dizzy just to think about it. Their faces are close. His is so beautiful that I could scream and cry.

The voice in my head is astonishing, I wish I wasn’t the only one to see it.

 _“You should kill him. There’s a paper knife.”_ He points at it with his chin, a seductive smile on his lips “ _You just have to sink it in his throat, right here.”_

He run his thumb over the exposed skin of his neck, where I know the jugular is pulsing.

It’s so hard not to believe him.

I should kill him.

\- Kadaj? –

The doctor snaps his fingers and I shake my head, that comes clear again.

There isn’t anybody except us in the study anymore, He’s disappeared. He’s probably gone back in that corner of my mind that he uses as his home.

\- I-I’m sorry. –

It’s hard for me to reconnect to my logic thoughts, because the medications make me dizzy, and a good part of my conscience is overcome by Him. But it’s _important_ that the doctor finds me sane, it’s important that he declares that I’ve made improvements. It’s important.

\- Well. What we were saying. What did they do to your Mother? –

My heart is pounding in my temples.

\- They…cut off her head. – I sense the salty taste of the tears that are streaking my face. I lick my lips. They’re bitter. – I was…eleven. I found her. –

 _Scratch scratch scratch_ , the noise of the doctor’s pen that scratches the paper.

\- Who did it? –

\- I don’t know. They never found the culprit. –

\- Your brothers? –

I gasp for a moment, feeling like I was just hit. It hurts. It hurts a lot.

\- Yazoo and Loz. –

He nods.

\- What happened to them? –

\- They sent the three of us in a foster home. We were fine. –

\- And then? –

Ah, my head is exploding. I have to hold it with both my hands. Black and white dots  are wavering at the edges of my vision.

\- We had…we were…we’ve been happy there. –

\- What happened _after_ , Kadaj? –

His hands are tightening their grip around my brain, I can hear his laughter resounding in my ears. I can’t even hear my thoughts.

\- I started hearing…a voice, inside my head. –

\- What did the voice tell you? –

_“Kill.”_

_\- Shut. Up. –_

\- Are you hearing it now too? –

 _Scratch scratch scratch_ , it sounds like His nails against the walls of my skull.

If I hit hard my head against the wall would He come out? Would I get rid of Him?

I heave a sigh of relief at the idea of my head split in half, and Him slipping away with my blood.

\- No. I…I’m confused, I’ve been drugged. -

\- It’s not drugs. - the doctor smiles. Should that smile reassure me? Well, it doesn’t. - They’re medications that should help you to contain your psychosis. Sure, we had to use a strong amount, but you’ll get used to it, you’ll get better and better. -

 _“Or maybe they’ll have to lobotomize you to “make you feel better”_ it’s a whisper, a ring in my ears _“And when you won’t be able to defend yourself anymore, your body will be mine.”_

I feel my stomach turning, I’m going to throw up.

I press my hands on my mouth and I try to keep in my stomach that little food they gave me to eat.

White glowing stars burst before my eyes and for a moment I fear I’m going to pass out.

Maybe I lose consciousness for a second or two, because when I come back to myself the doctor is asking me if everything’s okay.

\- Can we…can we end the session? - I gasp. The sour taste in my mouth worsen the nausea. - I don’t feel good. -

\- Just five more minutes. Just a few more questions. - I don’t know if it’s the drugs of the passiveness that makes me nod, but I do it, and I wish I stopped crying - Can you tell me what happened two days ago? When you were in the common room during the visiting time. -

\- My brothers came. - it hurts, it hurts! Someone make this pain stop! - But…but I got angry…I assaulted them. -

\- I want you to see something. -

I nod again.

“I don’t submit”, isn’t it what I screamed at Yazoo? I look quite submissive now though.

There’s a television in the room, the doctor puts a disk in the DVD player and pushes the play button.

It’s a recording from the security cameras in the common room. They’re not headed towards anyone in particular, but in the middle of the room I recognize my skinny figure waiting on the sofa.

The doctor forwards the video till forty-five minutes later, at the moment Yazoo and Loz should arrive.

The record doesn’t have sound.

I see myself jump on my feet, a lunatic light of happiness in my eyes.

Then I see myself talking alone.

I see myself sitting alone.

I see my face as it twists in a mask of madness and I start screaming at nothing.

I see myself as the nurses grabs my arms.

And then the shock of the electric teaser makes me lose consciousness.

The doctor pushes the pause button. He looks at me. Smiles at me.

\- Kadaj, do you remember what happened to your brothers? -

I’m staring at the screen, I staring at my _crazy_ expression.

Where are Yazoo and Loz? They were there, I know they were. I hugged them, held them, I smelled their essence. I held their hands.

They were there.

The pain in my head becomes unbearable, I feel like I can’t breathe anymore, since my lungs are pressed in a grip.

I see everything black and I look desperately for something to grab on to, or something to grasp to hit myself to make this pain stop.

Every beat of my heart is a hammer blow inside my skull. I feel like I’m breaking to pieces.

I feel His hands caressing my face. The heath of his breath on my ear. The presence of his body so near that gives me goosebumps.

_“Come Kadaj, I’ll take you away from the pain.”_

The black feathers of his wings are really soft, they envelope my body like a blanket.

The doctor’s study becomes far, tiny, like a little white dot on the horizon.

And He got me all for himself.

 

 

_I fight to come conscious again._

_I fight to stay alive._

_I don’t know which Hell is worse._

_I try to crawl out of the darkness, I try to come back to my body, in the fragile, warm shell of flash that is real and can’t lie to me. Not like my mind._

_The black-winged Angel that keeps me captive is not the Angel of Death, because otherwise He would have already killed me, He wouldn’t have extended so much my sufferings._

_I’m in chain at his feet, plunged in a pool of blood that I’m sure does not belong to me._

_I can smell it. Something inside me_ knows _to whom it belongs, but it’s afraid just to think about it._

_But He knows better than me my weakness, and he shows them to me._

_Yazoo, Loz._

_Dead._

_Horrible slash wounds over their bodies._

_The murderer raged against them with huge brutality, because they must have died at the second stab, but they have hundreds of wounds on their bodies. Some slashes are deep enough that I can see their bones, other are superficial, inflicted for the pure pleasure of seeing live blood._

_And the Angel is holding a sword, its blade stained in blood._

“You did it!”

_But I don’t have a voice to scream it._

_He laughs and his laughter fills that black space, sharp as the blade of his sword._

_It’s with a clear cut that he cuts off their heads, like a guillotine, so suddenly that I can’t even close my eyes to avoid that scene._

_Like Mother’s head, I found them at my feet. They look at me, their green eyes like mine are filled with resentment and rage. They’re accusing me._

_But I didn’t do it, I didn’t do it._

_I didn’t do it._

I wake up with a start in the middle of the night. Curled up like a scared kitty, my legs pressed against my chest and my head hidden between my arms.

Opening my eyes never felt so hard. I barely recognize my room, for a moment I don’t remember where I am and I feel instinctively like calling Mom.

But she’s not there, she’s dead.

I focus on my surroundings just after long minutes.

I’m clean enough to realize my conditions.

My right arm hurts like hell. Not so hard to believe. Fidgeting in my sleep I teared off the needle and the IV they must have given me while I was asleep; although it will cause the appearance of an enormous bruise, it spared me from my night time dose of drugs that would have had me awake tomorrow morning and completely unable of think logically.

I sit, even if it’s complicated having my arms and legs obey after so much time still in the same position.

They didn’t tie me to the bed, so they think I’m so drugged that I won’t have the strength to rebel. This is a good thing.

The tray with the cold dinner by now, on the night table, makes my stomach rumble. It doesn’t look inviting, but I need energies.

I devour everything not caring about the taste, just for survival instinct.

When I feel that I’m able to stand on my feet I stand, and I’m glad I wasn’t wrong.

I reach the door with stealthy steps and I try the handle. It’s open.

They must be sure that I’m completely knocked out to dare leacing the door open.

Good for me, it’ll cost me half of the effort.

Since I’ve opened my eyes I can’t stop thinking about my brothers. It’s strange how they can fill my mind in such opposite ways.

On one hand there are clear and bright memories of our childhood, the days spent playing in the garden, the afternoon’s snacks, the insects hunting in the summer, the laughs, the hugs when we used to sleep holding to each other because Loz was scared by a storm.

On the other, there’s blood. A lot of blood. Hot, slimy, thick, metallic, it’s all over their bodies, painting them in a crimson red that clashes with their beautiful green eyes.

I have to know. I need it.

Because I’m not crazy.

I slowly walk through the hallways, aided by my bare feet that don’t make any sound against the floor. I look like a shadow, jumping from a pool of darkness to the other, waiting to find behind every corner someone that may stop my escape.

Not tonight.

The nurse on duty is sleeping soundly, the face pressed against the desk, his hand stuck into a bag of cheese chips. He doesn’t make a sound, neither he moves when I grab the keys from his belt.

I just slip away, and I’m sure I can make it. Yes.

I’m heavy breathing and I feel like just the beating of my heart may draw someone’s attention, like I was bringing with me a loud cuckoo clock.

But there’s no one, the empty corridors, the night that covers my escape.

I put a random key into the lock to open the door. It doesn’t work. I try the second one. Neither that one. There are only three left.

I hear footsteps in the distance, they’re hurried and running towards me.

Did they realize I’m not in my room anymore?

My hands are trembling and I try another key. It doesn’t turn.

The footsteps get closer and closer.

They’re gonna catch me!

Then the lock snaps and the door opens. I drop the keys and run, run, run.

I don’t even look back.

My bare feet that burn against the asphalt is not the first thing that worries me. There’s something wonderful in the air, something sparkling and delicious that tickles my nose: freedom.

For a moment the thrill and the adrenaline makes me feel invincible, then I remember that I’ve just escaped from a psychiatric hospital, that I’m still wearing those light cotton clothes and that I’m running bare feet in the middle of the street.

I sneak in an alley and I go on choosing secondary streets, away from the night traffic.

Towards home.

I don’t know why my legs bring me there, but I can feel the calling, the need to come back where everything began.

The two-floors little house that saw us growing up is broken-down now, despite the “for sale” sign stuck on the door I doubt that someone may want to buy a house where such a violent murder happened.

Good for me.

The untamed and soft lawn feels like a bless for my hurting feet. I go up the three steps of the porch and suddenly I feel like when I was eight years old and couldn’t reach the knob of the door. Now I can open it, it creaks a little.

Everything’s abandoned and shabby, just dust, insects and rats live here.

But it’s my home.

I feel like I can still smell in the air the scent of the last ice cream I ate here, together with the one of the memories that don’t want to remain memories. I can see everything like it was before and I have to restrain myself from bursting into tears at the sight of how it appears now: furniture smashed by vandals, an obscene writing on the wall of the living room, emptied of all the knick-knacks that used to fill the shelves.

Even if it’s so dark that I can barely see two meters before me, I could find the way to my room even with my eyes closed.

Second floor, first door at the bottom of the hallway.

There’s no more trace of me in that room, most of my belongings are in the host house, or well, they used to be there before I was admitted to the hospital.

The bed is still here though.

I curl up on it and for the first time I fall asleep peacefully.

 

There would be no need to shake me to wake me up, because I’m alert even before a hand lays on my shoulder. But after recognizing Loz’s steps on the faded wood floor, I decided to let him gently shake me and see me come back conscious.

I open my eyes looking for his and I found them without the need to ask.

\- Good morning Kaddie. -

My big brother, my big baby brother that never grew up, the one who was afraid of the bullies at school even if he was two times bigger than them, the one who didn’t kill an insect if he happened to find one in the house, but instead he gently picked it up to let it free between the bushes in the garden.

My sweet, so sweet Loz.

\- Good morning. -

I mutter with a smile, it really is a good day.

I sit just to hug him, and seeing him reciprocate makes me happy enough that I could cry.

My old room in the light of the day looks even worse than I thought. The abandon and the desolation seem to reign. The only other lifeform here beside me and Loz is the spider that composed a huge web in a corner of the ceiling.

\- What did you get up to, mh? -

This is Yazoo, by the door, his arms crossed and glaring at me.

I keep hugging Loz, enjoying the warmth and the protection that he gives me, selfish as a cat.

\- Nothing. -

I reply with an arrogant smile and I hear Loz snickering while Yazoo sighs.

\- Kad, you ran away from the hospital. -

\- I know. -

\- Why? -

Why?

Why?

My memories seem drenched with molasses. Sticky and confused, they hardly come back to my mind, maybe because of the crap they injected m with.

The psychiatrist’s study, his painful questions, Him.

The recording of the security camera in the common room.

\- I need to know something. -

I exhort Yazoo to sit beside me. He hesitates for a moment and then he agrees to do so, again because of that silent wish to obey me that moves both of them.

I hold again their hands like I did last time.

Loz’s hand is big and warm, Yazoo’s one is thin and cold.

They’re real.

I heave a sigh of relief.

\- That idiot, the doctor thinks he’ll convince me with his tricks. -

I’m still smiling, but for some reason my heart is racing in my chest.

\- Tricks? -

Loz tilts his head as he asks, like a puppy or a child that doesn’t understand.

\- They showed me a video. - just thinking about how absurd sounds the thing I’m about to say I feel like laughing. I find out it’s a nervous laughter only when it escapes my lips. - The security vid of the day you came to see me at the hospital. But in the video you weren’t there, there was just me talking by myself. They must have tampered with it. -

Absurd! Really absurd! That’s why I laugh again, shaking my head.

I would expect them to laugh too. Instead, Yazoo is serious, Loz even more, and that makes my heart sink beneath my feet.

\- Kad, you’re still ill, you have to  go back to the hospital. -

\- Are you _insane_? -my tone sounds like a slap, Yazoo should feel it - I told you they drugged my, I’m telling you they tampered with a video, it’s _obvious_ that they want me to believe I’m crazy! And you want me to go back there?! -

It sounds like an accusation, I realize it, and it may hurt him, but I _want_ it to hurt him, I expect him to show a painful expression, I expect him to apologize.

I expect things that don’t happen.

Yazoo just falls silent, his gaze fixed on me. It doesn’t look painful, it doesn’t even look sorry.

\- Don’t look at me like that. - I burst out, angry - Say something. -

Silence. A silence that makes me feel dizzy.

\- Yazzie it’s useless…we have to tell him. -

\- Shut up Loz. -

I distance myself from my Loz, his hug is no more warm and cozy like before.

\- Tell me what? -

\- What happened to us. -

\- Loz! -

\- What you did to us. -

\- Shut up, stop it! We made a deal! -

\- A DEAL ABOUT WHAT?! -

I scream, my voice sounds annoying for my own ears, let alone for them.

But I can’t stand to be ignored, to be kept out.

They both fall silent. Loz starts crying, tiny sobs shake his body.

They more I look at them, the more I realize I’m in front of two strangers. While I was isolated in the hospital, they changed, they’ve become something different that I can’t understand anymore.

\- Please, tell me something. - it’s a plead that I address to Loz, then to Yazoo, my eyes looking for theirs - Please. -

Loz keeps sobbing in silence.

Yazoo is the first one to move.

He slowly unzips his jacket and he takes it off. The shirt he’s wearing below is ripped on the abdomen. He lifts it and then I see it.

An open slash precise, deep, that from one side to the other run his body horizontally, the skin around it is reddened and bloody. It looks like a serious injure, but it’s not the only one: his whole bust is full of slashes, more or less deep.

I jump on my feet trying to tampon it, screaming something at Loz to make him call an ambulance, but he doesn’t move. The same way Yazoo doesn’t move.

His injure is not bleeding. Not anymore at least.

Then I turn towards Loz, he took off his jacket too and, lifted his t-shirt, he shows me a slash on his chest, right on his heart. A deadly blow.

\- What happened to us, Kadaj? -

Suddenly it’s like the world overturned.

 

_I’ve just turned twelve when I hear the voice for the first time. His voice._

_At the beginning I’m able to ignore it, they’re just whispers, and they mostly come up beside horrible nightmares that keep me awake at night._

_Then it becomes more sharp and harassing. I hear it even when I’m awake and not just in my dreams._

_I become grumpy, moody, I’ve a constant headache._

_The host family where we live is a nice place, there are a lot of children orphans like us._

_Yazoo and Loz get on well, they make friends, distance themselves from me._

_The voice in my head never stops talking._

_A month later I kill my first cat, because the voice told me I would have felt better by doing it. It’s true. I feel good._

_For some days I don’t hear it anymore, its bloodlust has been satisfied for now. I can go back playing with my brothers, I share their new discoveries, their new life. I’m happy._

_Then He comes back, more unrelenting than before._

_I must kill again._

_I don’t even remember what are the second and the third animals I kill, I just know that the blood on my hands makes the voice quiet._

_I understood. I have to kill to make him stop tormenting me._

_I only dream about blood at night. I hear Mother calling me. I’m never able to reach her._

_I try to kill every day. Dogs, cats, rats, a little bird with a broken wing fallen from its nest._

_It’s not enough, it’s never enough, but I try to behave._

_Then Loz brings Shimai home. She’s a nice little cat. He loves her so much._

_I have to kill her._

_Her meowing keeps me awake at night, it haunts me during the day. The voice doesn’t keep quiet for a moment._

_The moment Loz loves her the most I break her neck and make her disappear._

_He cries for days, we organize a research in the whole neighborhood, with fliers and everything. I help him. I cry with him. His sufferings feed the voice._

_I learn that just killing isn’t enough. I have to take away what they love the most._

_For my thirteenth birthday our new “mother” organizes a mountain trip. We’re all excited, none of us has never seen the snow._

_The trip lasts just an hour, the snow covers everything and wrap everything in an astonished silence. I’m happy again._

_But the voice doesn’t like it._

_We go out for an excursion. Yazoo and Loz are coupled with younger children, and so am I. It’s useful to strengthen our sense of responsibility, so they say._

_Riku is five years old, he’s the youngest of our “family”, they love and protect him with all their strength._

_While we climb through the path he puts a foot on the fresh snow without knowing that a fall of two meters is waiting below. Trying to catch him I fall with him._

_We call for help for hours while the sky gets darker and darker. We’re gonna freeze to death._

_He’s shivering, he’s scared, his leg is broken and he’s barely breathing._

_The voice tells me how to do it. He’s gonna die anyway._

_He lightly squeaks in search of air while I choke him, my hands wrapped in gloves pressed against his face. He stops fighting after few seconds._

_I did it for his sake._

_According to the doctor he broke a rib in the fall and a fragment got stuck in his lung, perforating it. That’s why he died._

_He was the first person I killed, and that’s when I saw Him, the Angel. When Riku exhaled his last breath, He appeared for a moment before my eyes._

_Maybe then I understood I was going crazy._

_From that moment I stop doing what he says. I stop killing. My battle doesn’t even cease in my sleep, in my nightmares it rages more than ever._

_He never stops whispering horrible things in my ears. Never._

_It’s a free fall towards the oblivion._

_I’m fourteen years and a half. I’m in the kitchen, preparing something to eat._

_The migraine is killing me, I can’t think, I might cut my fingers while I slice the tomatoes._

_I keep telling to myself “shut up, shut up”, but he doesn’t. He brings me to the brink of exasperation._

_I just want this pain to stop. I just want everything to end._

_I’m about to cut my wrists but Yazoo intervene. He shouts, tries to make me let go of the knife, I’ve never seen him so scared._

_But I don’t want to, I don’t want to, I can’t do this, I don’t want to fight anymore._

_Trying to get free of his grip I harm him. The knife penetrate the flesh so easily that leaves me astonished._

_The smell of the blood makes me lose control._

_I hope he died at the second blow, so deep, inside his guts, slashing him horizontally from one side to the other._

_He falls to the ground and I rage against him. One, two, three, four, twenty times. I lost count when I’m forced to stop, because Loz grabs my wrist, stopping me. But it’s the wrong wrist._

_I’m able to stick the knife in his chest and his heart immediately stops beating._

_I found myself in tears in a pool of blood._

_The voice stopped talking, because the people I love the most in the world are dead._

_But I didn’t do it._

_I didn’t do it._

Empty. There’s no one beside me. There’s no hug. There’s nothing. Just emptiness.

I’m as alone as I’ve ever been, I just didn’t want to remember.

I hold my head between my hands, I’ve no more tears left to cry.

My brothers aren’t here anymore. They’ve never been here. And I am crazy.

I’m able to get up despite the pain, despite His laughter resounding in my mind, sharp and cutting. 

I reach Mother’s room. I’m sure I can smell her perfume.

I can’t go back anymore, I don’t even want to.

I just want to be free, at least once.

Free from pain.

Free to choose.

The window overlooks the garden. Even if now it’s untamed I can recognize the bushes where we hid as children.

I sit on the cornice, hanging in the balance, bare feet, with the white cotton clothes, my silver hair fluctuating in the air. A ghost.

I died that day and I didn’t know.

The memories of that last year open before my eyes like a fan with thousand colored shades, but there is no color, there’s just grey and black.

\- You did it, didn’t you? -

I think it’s the first time I talk to the voice on purpose, except when I try to make it shut up with threats and empty words.

_“You killed them.”_

\- No. - I shake my head, I can’t help smiling - Did you erase my memories? -

_“You chose to believe what hurt you less.”_

Someway I knew it.

I never accepted what I did, I probably forgot I did it just the moment after.

The recovery, the hospital, the psychiatrist that got mad when I asked about my brothers, the vague answers the nurses gave me when I demanded to see them.

The Flower Girl played her part too, I was sick, weak, I would have let myself die in that bed if she hadn’t gave me an alternative.

And then them, obviously.

Sit on the cornice beside me, Yazoo at my right, Loz at my left. They hold my hands.

\- We’re sorry Kaddie. -

Loz cries, sniffing. He tries to wipe his face but it’s still a mess of tears and snot. The usual crybaby.

\- We just wanted you to heal. -

Yazoo caresses my face. There’s not resentment, hate or pain in his eyes. Even if I couldn’t forgive myself, they already did.

\- I had to realize I was crazy, right? -

I mutter, still with a smile. I don’t wait for approval from either of them.

They slowly hug me, tight. I feel the beating of their hearts, their warmth, their scents.

Long nights without nightmares, vanilla sweets, and tears.

Metal, gun powder and spices.

I let myself fall. It’s not so bad.

I am free, free in free fall.

My fragile, warm flesh shell touches the ground, two floors below, but I’m elsewhere held tight to Yazoo and Loz.

My only reasons to live.

 


End file.
